[this is-- almost like finding something familiar, holding hands with two people whose names wei wuxian holds dear. sizhui is like a softer lan zhan, if he ever learned to express himself beyond frowns and curtly spoken monosyllables, and nie huaisang is nie huaisang, clever in all the ways that will make their elders shake their heads at the wasted potential.

wei wuxian feels at home, and at the same time he yearns for it so strongly that his heart aches for a handful heartbeats.

ah, but that's too serious for this. nothing that a bottle of liquor can't fix.

they're led to their tables and wei wuxian sits on one side, setting lan sizhui free to take a more polite distance if he chooses to. wei wuxian, though, invites nie huaisang to sit close, so that he might ply the others with the frivolities of youth - prodding, flicking, pinching and the like, all with abandon.]

Everything here is full of glass - ah, so expensive! [to nie huaisang:]W e're getting liquor, aren't we? Do you drink, Lan Sizhui?

You can tell me, it'll be our secret!